


Buried somewhere deep at the bottom of the ocean

by Achromos



Category: Aquaman (2018), DC Extended Universe
Genre: Alien Biology, Atlantis, Brotherly Bonding, Environmentalism, Family, Past Child Abuse, Present Tense, Redemption, Scent Marking, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-05 03:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17317670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achromos/pseuds/Achromos
Summary: The first time they speak, they don't talk at all.It goes uphill from there, for both Atlantis and a mismatched family of Atlanteans, half-breeds and humans.





	Buried somewhere deep at the bottom of the ocean

**Author's Note:**

> I can't really express how or why I loved this movie so much, but especially after listening to the soundtrack I couldn't stop thinking about these characters. And I was so positively surprised when Arthur offered his brother to talk. It's so rare to see a moment like that, it's where I started this story because I think that was the most impactful line of the entire movie.
> 
> Also, as a geography major I couldn't help but expand a tiny bit on the topic of environmental pollution etc. Please, more of that in mainstream blockbuster action movies. Thanks James Wan.
> 
> Title from lyrics of the song "Ocean" by Seven Lions.
> 
> Enjoy!

The first time they speak, they don't talk at all. Arthur visits his little brother in his cell, high atop a tower in the Royal Palace as if it were any different from a dark cellar. Or perhaps it is. There is a nice current, permeable windows allowing it inside and offering a view of Atlantis' capital city from above. He goes in, telling the guards to wait outside. And then they are silent.

This repeats a few times, Orm always either keeping his back turned to Arthur or doing the Atlantean equivalent of pacing with his arms crossed, clearly dismissive. Arthur knows it's his own fault, really. What does Orm have to say to him? He's said his piece already. It's Arthur whose tongue is tied with so many unspoken things.

He's said the truth when he told Orm that he used to dream about meeting his little brother. That child's dream has been squashed under the years of adulthood, though, and their actual first meeting overshadowed by the threat of war. Now that he has the chance, he doesn't know where to begin.

It is on his fourth visit that Arthur realizes where he must start.

"Tell me about Mother," he says, and watches with satisfaction as Orm shudders to a halt, floating vertically in the middle of his circular room. It is not really a prison. He has all the comforts of a royal, still. Arthur insisted on it. Only the guards circling the entire tower make it a cell. That, and Orm's pacing like a caged tiger wanting but unable to lash out because he knows he will only hurt himself if he does.

"You have her back," Orm replies finally. "You can ask her yourself."

 _I_ have her back, Arthur notes. He knows their mother has been to visit Orm, too, a few times. She never said whether they talked or if their meetings have been as silent as Arthur's.

"Yes," he acquiesces, thus. "But I want to hear what you remember of her when you were little. Then, I'll tell you what I remember of her. And together we can let go of the grief we both carried with us over her death. Because I know that is the main reason you hate me, and honestly, it was the main reason I hated you and all of Atlantis, too."

Orm looks at him out of the corner of his eye, hesitant, measuring.

"There is nothing to grieve anymore, she is alive." He turns away. "Thanks to you. You are her savior."

"That doesn't just remove all the years of thinking she was dead, though."

Orm huffs, a cloud of bubbles rising after he does so.

"It does not, indeed."

Arthur alights on the floor, deciding to walk closer to his brother – perhaps to give him the warning sound of footsteps on rock. As he passes some sort of couch, placed in front of a low table laden with Atlantean digital scrolls, he realizes this is the closest he has been to Orm since their last fight. And Orm watches him, not moving an inch, but clearly paying attention to his approach. Wary. Coiled tight and ready to strike.

"So, what is it you remember about Mother?" Arthur asks and sits on the edge of the couch. "Actually, tell me everything. From when you were a child. Somehow, I can't imagine you playing catch or doodling on the walls. What were you like? A stuck-up little shit, I presume."

Orm raises his chin and looks down at Arthur haughtily.

"I will have you know I was the best at playing catch."

Arthur laughs; startled by the sudden show of humor.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, of course. It is a great way to teach Atlantean children speed and dexterity. And I made this," Orm continues, suddenly swimming towards one of the walls. He touches a nick there. "With my face. I rammed into it, trying to hide from my calculus instructor."

"Good to know that our dislike for math is genetic."

Orm almost smiles.

"It was Mother who patched me up. That is what I remember about her the most. Always patching me up." The almost-smile fades into nothing, drifting away on the soft current. "I needed patching up a lot."

Arthur sobers as well, trying and failing not to read too much into that. If he used to hate Atlantis and Atlanteans, if he grew to resent his little half-brother, none of it held a candle to his hatred of Orvax. It was he who sent those soldiers to bring Atlanna back, to take her from her family on the surface. It was he who sentenced her to her death. Atlanna has hinted that the late King was anything but a gentle man. This all but confirms it.

But instead of voicing his hatred, Arthur says: "I remember Mother's stories the most. The one about Atlan and the Trident, of course."

"I did not hear those stories from her. I had preceptors for that. But I did hear stories – about you. She would always tell me about you."

"What did she say?"

"How perfect you were," Orm snarls, and Arthur realizes his mistake. "How beautiful and gentle and kind. How attentive and smart. She told me how strong you were, and that you were destined to bring the surface world and Atlantis together. That you would be the greatest King Atlantis had ever seen." He paces again, crossing the room twice, thrice. And then he suddenly seems to deflate, coming to sit on the other end of the couch. A rift between them, so short they could reach out and touch – but much wider than that in truth. "I suppose she was right. You are King now, and you wield the Trident of Atlantis. That alone makes you at least equal to King Atlan himself."

Arthur decides to change tactics.

"What about your father? What was he like?"

This seems to take Orm by surprise. He stares unseeing for a while, gathering his thoughts.

"Orvax was- …" He pauses again, and Arthur notes that he does not call him 'father'. "He was a stern ruler. Dedicated to tradition and loyalty to Atlantis and her people. He taught me everything that I know about being King."

"Like expecting that I would kill you over a throne I never even wanted?"

"Yes. And that ultimately, the surface world is our greatest enemy. That, and weakness."

"Like Mother's love for me and my father," Arthur clarifies.

"Yes."

"You do realize that was just his way to try and get you to resent Mother. Because he knew that he could not make her stop loving my father and me." He paused. "And you, too."

Orm flinched.

"If she had loved me, she would have- …" He stops himself, lips pressed tightly together as if to prevent more words from tumbling out forcefully.

"No," Arthur says. "I mean, he could not stop you from loving her. So, he made you resent her instead. He made you resent her for a weakness that you share with her, a weakness that is not a weakness at all, but a strength. Orvax was a brainless idiot not to realize that."

"Out!" Orm bellowed then, shooting off the couch like a bullet. "Get out! How dare you besmirch my father's name in my presence. Leave before I rip off your head for the insolence."

Arthur shrugs and calmly gets up. He moves towards the door, aware of the guards hovering there uncertainly. They must have heard the shouting, if not the threat of bodily harm directed at their King. As he walks, still, offering the sound of his steps and their measure as insurance for his peaceful intentions, he keeps watching Orm, who has gone back to pacing, his face contorted into an ugly grimace.

"I'll see you again soon, little brother."

His face, twisted and warped, is the last thing Arthur sees when he leaves. It is only much later that he remembers that Atlantean tears are invisible as they dissolve in the ocean.

~

Talking to Orm is like playing minesweeper, but with the real possibility of loss of limb and life. One moment you think you're safe, steering away from all the explosiveness and hurt and pain. And the next you've stepped on a mine, and things go boom.

Not always. Sometimes they are duds. Arthur knows he's stepped on a mine, but Orm stays quiet. Those are even more dangerous. These ones simmer and blow up unexpectedly, with even more force than the regular ones.

But the thing about minesweeper is, once you figure out the rules and get a feel for the field … it gets easier. Sure, every step still has to be perfectly calculated, and there are always risks involved. This game doesn't reset though. And now he has data to go on though, and experience to steer clear of certain topics.

Orvax is one of them.

Arthur also begins to realize that he and Atlanna are probably the only people Orm speaks to these days in any meaningful kind of fashion. It makes him wonder if anyone ever talked to him in a meaningful way. Atlanteans carry grudges like Arthur imagines deep sea whales carry barnacles. They grow quickly but are a bitch to remove. This, he thinks, is why Mera is so violently against the idea that Orm can or even should be redeemed.

"He is a traitor. He has caused the deaths of many Atlanteans. He has tried to kill you. And you would invite him into your house, embrace him as your brother? Have you lost your mind? No. You cannot do this. Absolutely not," she says with a finality that brokers no protest.

Except Arthur protests.

"He _is_ my brother, though, and he's been behaving. I talk to him almost every day now. We're civil. And I'm growing tired of going up that tower all the time, I'm sure he's grown tired of that cell too."

"That is the point of prisons," Mera grouses. "They are not meant to be comfortable or stimulating. Let him be discomfited. It is the least he can suffer. You have already spared his life, that is more than he deserves – or have you forgotten his crimes?"

"Would it be so hard to come with me and speak to him? No, what if you just listen? You don't even have to talk."

He wonders if he will come to rue his offer but stands firm on his decision. Especially after he's gotten Orm to share anecdotes about growing up with Mera as Atlanna's ward and pupil. If anything, those two are more like siblings than Arthur and Orm. It shows in the strength of their mutual resentment that is more a childish expression of 'I miss you please give me your attention like you used to' than actual hatred. It makes Arthur want to lock Mera in that tower cell too, just for a little while. Except he's pretty sure they'd actually kill each other if he tried that.

So, he brings Vulko to see Orm first.

"What is he doing here," Orm spits as soon as they make it through the door, and he looks like a pufferfish, his hair and clothes billowing around him in a cloud of weightless, useless protection.

"Greetings, my prince," Vulko says calmly, as unperturbed as ever.

Orm nearly chokes on his next breath of water.

"Prince?" he hisses then, pacing alongside the curve of the opposite wall. It's been a while since he's done that, and Arthur watches worriedly as he touches down on the ground to actually walk back and forth. "I was your King. You were my Vizier. I trusted you."

"I am and always have been loyal to Atlantis and Her throne."

"You mean to say I was not?"

Arthur watches the back and forth between them, confident that Vulko knew Orm well enough to sidestep any potential minefields. After all, he had seen Arthur grow up. His involvement in Orm's upbringing must have been even more hands-on.

"It is Atlan, the Trident of Atlantis, and their legacy that are at the core of what Atlantis is. It is Atlanna, who was of the sacred, royal bloodline, not Orvax, and through her, it is your heritage too."

Arthur winces. Land mine.

"My father- …" comes the expected outburst. But then Orm falters.

"You forget, I was there too. I know that Orvax was not a kind king. He was not a kind husband. And he was not a kind father." Vulko swims closer to Orm, a strange hesitancy in the way he reaches out. "He tried to mold you into a Marius. But you have been and always will be an Atlan in your heart. Remember that. You are your mother's son."

"And my King's brother," Orm says, his eyes locking with Arthur's. His expression is inscrutable, but then his irises light up bright blue and he extends his arms, unfolding a bubble of air around him. Arthur watches as his little brother bends forward with the force of puking out the water in his lungs so he can breathe air. He himself pushes it out before stepping inside the bubble to avoid that very same reaction.

"I didn't know you can do that," he says, deigning not to mention the water-retching, and points at the bubble.

"I admit that I did not listen to Mother's instructions as intently as Mera did," Orm says, his articulation rough with residue water in his voice box. "I let my hydrokinesis lessons slide for more practice hours with the trident. But I thought that … I just felt like breathing air for now." He meets Arthur's eyes again. "Things are different, when you feel gravity instead of water pressure."

Arthur doesn't even think, only reaches out to enfold his little brother in his arms. Orm makes himself small enough to tuck under Arthur's chin, and it's like something inside him snaps shut. Something that had been rattling loose, shaking unsecured in the wind.

"Yes," Orm mutters, the sound muffled against Arthur's shoulder. "That feels different."

So, he holds him. His brother. Finally.

"Touch is special to Atlanteans," Orm begins to say, shifting a little. He straightens, leaning his cheek against Arthur's jaw. He is heavy, much heavier than Arthur expected. "Among strangers, it is frowned upon. Hands, arms, sometimes shoulders are fine to touch, but only with clear intent and reciprocity. But among family, it is very important. It is how we delineate family boundaries. Touch transfers markers from skin to skin, subconsciously visible to anyone with the senses to see them."

"Ew! You're marking me," Arthur says, incredulously, and makes a face.

"No. You are marking _me_. You are the older one, the higher ranking one." Orm pauses and then bumps his forehead against Arthur's chin. "It means I submit to you. And you protect me."

Arthur thinks about that, wondering. Protection. Who does Orm need protection from? The people of Atlantis. The Xebellians, incited by Mera. King Nereus specifically. The Fishermen, for killing their king. The Brine, for waging war ono them. The surface world, because he does not understand it yet. Who else?

"What do you need to be able to protect yourself?" Arthur asks instead.

Orm smiles, sharp-edged, like that sea dragon he used to ride and who continues to terrorize the stables. It's dangerous, Arthur knows. He doesn't trust Orm just yet, not outside this tower cell. He doesn't trust him to have expelled all of Orvax' teachings from his mind yet. He doesn't trust him not to fall back on old hatred and fears. But it is always wise to listen.

"What I would need is a strong King. And a title."

It's smart. Orm is always smart. He's not always logical – in fact, he almost never is, so guided by his wounded child's heart – but he is constantly conscious about his choices and his words. He knows where to position himself in a room and what impact it has on others. He knows how to change his voice to be heard in the way he wants to. He dresses to instantly make his intent known, has shed the dark purple he used to favor before and replaced it with an equally dark green. He is growing out his hair, braiding it vertically instead of twisting it tightly against his nape, and Arthur knows there is a reason for it, but he has no clue what. There is a reason behind everything he does, buried always deep in emotions that threaten to spill over. He wants Arthur to succeed, because it will benefit him. Because he is afraid to find out who he is, if not the thing he was raised to be. And he was raised to be one thing, and one thing only: a warrior king.

But he is smart enough to make it an exchange. I'll make you the king Atlantis will respect, if you let me sit at your side. I'll teach you about Atlantean customs, if only you name me sebastokratōr. Arthur doesn't even know what that is, and he has to prod Vulko to tell him that the sebastokratōr is the king's second, his equal in all but power, his heir, his family.

It's a wise choice. Orm could have demanded that he be named despotes or oikeios, and Arthur's head swims with the nuanced differences between these titles. They seem to come naturally to Orm and Vulko, who know that sebastokratōr is an honorific only and it will tie Orm irrevocably to Arthur and Arthur's reign. Until his death, upon which Orm would take precedence over any other claims, even future children, to his entire inheritance – his possessions, his name, his crown, the throne. All of it.

"Some would say you're angling to assassinate me and inherit it all right now. Why wait for me to die if you can have it all sooner," Arthur says.

"Impossible." Orm shakes his head. "You have already bested me in single combat. The Gods will it. I owe you my life. You wield the Trident. And a sebastokratōr has no command. All that a sebastokratōr has is given to him by the king and can be taken away at the king's pleasure as well."

"It is a position of great prestige, at the king's side," Vulko interjects. "But of extremely little actual influence aside from the king's goodwill and mercy. It is usually a title given to close family."

Arthur frowns.

"What's the downside?"

"You would have to release me."

He sees Vulko shift a little, but when Arthur looks at him, he is inscrutable. No help there.

"I don't know if you're ready yet," he tells Orm.

To his surprise, Orm nods and agrees. His eyes drift to the windows and the view of Atlantis outside. They both think the same thing. He isn't ready, and neither is Atlantis. The people would not accept him, would not trust him. Not yet.

"You know where to find me."

It is as clear as a dismissal as it gets. Arthur allows it, allows this small measure of power to his brother, who is grasping at these opportunities to one-up Arthur like straws. He gestures for Vulko to leave first and stays behind a few moments longer, watching Orm practice his hydrokinesis. He's made a ring of bubbles around himself, and they circle him in an intricate pattern.

Later, Arthur swims to the surface, back home, and asks his mother about that.

"Can all Atlanteans move water like that?"

She hands him a mug of tea, cradling her own between her hands like a precious little thing. It is still surreal, sometimes, to see her like this. Knowing that she is home, in the house that Arthur grew up in. Available, ready and more than happy to answer any and all questions that he has.

"Not all," she replies after a sip. "Only the high-born."

"And what is the difference anyway, between high-born and … not?"

"Low-born," Atlanna offers. "We are all Atlanteans now, for we were in Atlantis when it fell into the ocean. We adapted to living underwater. But not all who fell were Atlantean before."

"How do you mean?"

She smiles, taking another sip.

"Atlanteans are a not humans, but before the fall, Atlantis was open to everyone. It is why there are so many Greek, Egyptian, Phoenician and Byzantine influences in our social structures and architecture. The high-born are those descendent from those who were Atlantean before the fall. Stronger, longer lived, gifted in particular ways even then. The low-born are the children of the mostly human visitors, guests and immigrants that fell with us and were changed."

"I see. So, only the high-born have hydrokinesis?"

"Not all of us do, either. But it is more likely for a high-born to have gifts like that." She gestures at Arthur. "Like your telepathy with the creatures of the sea. It is rare, since you are not technically a high-born."

"Yeah, I'm a half-breed," Arthur mutters.

Atlanna is silent for a few moments, regarding him with a strange expression on her face.

"You must understand that while Atlantis has a particular … _rigid_ sort of thinking, it does not mean you have to adjust to that. You are King. You can change that."

"I know." Arthur grimaces and rubs his face. "But it's hard when I don't know half of what I'm doing or why, and I don't know Atlantis as well as I should. Things like this, that are fundamental, but nobody speaks of them because they assume everyone knows."

Atlanna hums, thoughtful. Arthur waves his hand, pushing aside the topic. This is not why he came here.

"I wanted to talk to you about Orm."

This catches his mother's attention right away. Her spine straightens, and her expression softens.

"How is he?" she breathes, leaning forward.

"He's fine. I think." He rolls his shoulders, stretches his arms, thinking about how to say this. "I wanted to ask you … Well, he told me you taught him and Mera hydrokinesis when they were children."

"Oh!" She lights up even more at that, if that is even possible. "Yes! Oh, these two were horrible pupils, let me tell you that, never able to sit still. But," her eyes dim a little, "it was one of the few things I was able to do with my son and my ward without interference. It was our private time. Just the three of us. Sometimes … sometimes without Orm. He had other lessons that were … more important."

Arthur nods, reaching out to touch his mother's hand. He looks at it, curled around his fingers, almost disbelieving. She is here. Alive. And so, so warm.

"He is practicing it now," he says, almost unconsciously.

"Really?"

Her voice is strange, so Arthur looks up at his mother's face, realizing with a start that she is crying.

"He made a bubble of air and we talked inside it," Arthur tells her, seeing that she is laughing, too. "He- … Well, I hugged him. It was good."

She wipes her face with her free hand, smiling.

"Let me tell Tom. I want to come and visit Atlantis. I'll go back with you."

Arthur waits in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee – Atlanteans don't really need to drink, so he usually spends his time on the surface doing just that, little things that he misses – and a little later Atlanna comes back, dressed in her white Atlantean suit and her crown.

"Let's go," she says, seeming almost giddy.

Swimming with her is a joy. They race each other a little, laughing and chasing after each other, distracting themselves from the straight path to Atlantis. He circles her in the water, lets her brush past him with a fleeting touch, and persuades a swarm of fish to accompany them for a short stretch of the way.

The guards let them pass into the city, of course, recognizing their King and the Queen Mother on sight. He knows their gazes linger, not only because of him. The people of Atlantis have great respect for Atlanna, for a wide variety of reasons. Because she is a descendant of Atlan. Because she survived the Trench and came back. Because she is kind and approachable.

She is gracious, when a few Atlanteans call out their names, waves and smiles at them as they swim or drive past. They don't halt until they are inside the Royal Palace, where her arrival causes a burst of activity. Before they can protest, the cooks have already promised them a private banquet later, and the chambermaids clamor to tell Atlanna that her room is ready for her.

"Later," she tells them, and looks at Arthur. "There is something else I need to do first."

So, he guides her to the tower, at the top of which he holds her second son captive.

When they enter Orm's room, at first Arthur doesn't see him and his heart clenches with a lurch of fear and confusion. But then his head pops up over the couch, where he must have been resting or reading.

"Mother?" he gasps, wide-eyed, and shoots across the room. He slows down just in front of Atlanna, gentling his impact into her waiting arms. Still, it sends them both spinning a little.

"My son. It is so good to see you."

Arthur watches for a few moments as they hug, recognizing now that this is more than that. It's an Atlantean exchange. A reaffirmation of family. Their cheeks rub against the other's affectionately, reminding Arthur a little of cats greeting each other.

"Hey, where's my lovin', little brother?" he calls out, spreading his arms.

He regrets this instantly, of course, when Orm's not inconsiderable weight barrels into him with much less care and consideration than what he showed their mother. It is less cheek rubbing, and more foreheads knocking against noses and chins digging into shoulders. It's also much more forceful than Arthur is used to from Orm. He thinks it means something, but he doesn't know what.

"I did not expect you back so soon," Orm says, pushing back. He looks over his shoulder at Atlanna, and every line in his body softens. "And I did not know you would come."

"It was spontaneous," she replied, grinning.

Orm is a minefield, waiting, hoping to be defused, Arthur thinks. But Atlanna's presence transforms him into something else entirely. A bed of Atlantean flowers, perhaps. They're bright and beautiful, but still sharp and prickly. Most of them are poisonous too, or dangerous in other ways, with barbs that are ready to slice open your skin if you try to touch them.

"Your brother told me you have something to show to me."

Arthur watches Orm's face go through a series of expressions, ranging from irritation and surprise to anger and then even excitement. Then, he turns a sly grin at Arthur.

"My room is too small to properly show everything."

It's quite transparent, not elegant like Orm's usual attempts at manipulation. That’s exactly why Arthur allows it. He thinks it surprises his brother, though he hides it well, when Arthur goes to speak with the guards, telling them their plan. The watch captain is clearly displeased but says nothing. He salutes his King and starts delegating, assigning eight guards to the King, the Queen Mother and the- … The captain falters for a moment, before he calls Orm His Royal Highness. It makes Arthur wonder what they call him, when not in the King's presence.

They go to the courtyard, where an entire squadron apparently has been summoned to secure the area. There are about four dozen guns and other weapons at Orm, tracking his every movement. It makes Arthur uncomfortable and he cracks a few jokes about overcompensating that nobody reacts to, which is even more unsettling. Atlanna comes to hover next to him, serious and quiet, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Show me," she calls out, her voice carrying loud and strong on the current. She nods at Orm, who hangs in the middle of the courtyard, looking unperturbed by the display of force around him.

He starts off easy, creating a few air bubbles that first hover around him and then move in a circular pattern before combining into a bigger bubble. Then, he expands it, until it is big enough to step inside should they want to. None of them move.

The bubble collapses with a muffled sound, and Orm shows a few more tricks. He twists a current until it encircles the entire courtyard, nearly wiping the guards hovering on the outside from their positions.

"Oops," he mutters, not looking apologetic at all.

"Very good," Atlanna says. Her voice still carries. She intends everyone to hear. "I see you remember the basics. Don't forget the uneven water pressure, above and below, and to compensate for depth."

"Yes, Mother."

He continues by summoning a tightly controlled vortex of air and water that keeps swirling the water around them for a long while even after he has collapsed it. Then, he raises his arms and concentrates very hard. Nothing happens for a while and Arthur shifts a little, until Atlanna discreetly pokes him in the ribs.

"Patience," she whispers.

And then he spots the first one. Awed, Arthur is too stunned at first, but then he reaches out to touch what looks like a snowflake. It is snowing. Underwater. He knows it is unkingly to giggle, but he can't help it. This is one of the things he always loved best about home, up on the surface. To have it again, here in Atlantis?

All around them, the water is dotted with flakes that are eddied about by the current and carried away. He captures a few in his hand, realizing after a moment that they don't melt.

"I know what you're thinking, but it is not snow," Atlanna tells him with a secret smile. "Eat one."

Curious, Arthur lifts his palm to his mouth and touches a flake with his tongue.

"Oh! It's salt."

"Of course it's salt," Orm says, looking a little exhausted, but mostly confused as he joins them. Arthur hears a gun being charged up and he shoots the guard a glare, until she looks away ashamedly and disarms her weapon.

"There is a thing on the surface," Arthur explains to his brother. "Snow. Ice crystals that fall from the sky. It looks exactly like this."

"Oh. I- … That sounds- …"

"It's beautiful," Atlanna rescues her younger son, smiling a little. "And I'm proud of you. You have remembered our lessons well. Keep practicing though, and you won't need to expend so much energy in the future."

"Thank you, Mother. I will."

"Let us go back then."

Arthur is glad that Atlanna has taken the decision from him and only nods, throwing an apologetic look at Orm, but his brother swims ahead, hiding any upset he may or may not be feeling at the prospect of returning to his cell. On the way back to the tower, Arthur gets an idea.

"Go on ahead without me, I'll be right there," he tells his mother. She looks at him curiously but complies. The guards with them are less certain about what to do, so he tells them to go with the Queen Mother.

"I can take care of myself for a few minutes, no need to babysit me all the time," he teases, shooing them off. Then he grabs the nearest palace caretaker – he refuses to call them servants – nearly giving him a heart-attack by the looks of it. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Can you take a message to the kitchens? They've been preparing something for the return of the Queen Mother. Tell them to serve the meal in my brother's quarters. Oh, and make it for three, not for two."

"Y-your brother's- … Yes, certainly, Your Majesty. Right away."

Satisfied, Arthur lets the boy go and swims to the top of the tower, where to his surprise the mood seems to be rather tense. Both Atlanna and Orm are suspiciously quiet, their mother sitting on the couch, while Orm busies himself with something on the other side of the room.

"Everything alright?" he asks.

"Yes," Atlanna replies, smiling a little weakly, but he lets it rest.

"I, uh, told the kitchens to bring dinner up here."

"Oh, that is a lovely idea. I haven't yet had the opportunity to properly dine with the both of you, together like this. This is going to be a first." Atlanna's smile finally transforms, and she reaches out to touch Arthur's hand gratefully.

"I'm not really hungry."

They both look at Orm, still hunched over something on the other side of the room.

"Come on, little brother, the food's not gonna bite."

Orm whirls around, his hand holding something raised above his head as if to smash it or throw it, yet he does neither. He stays his hand, lets the thing he was holding float to the ground – a bundle of some sort? – and swims towards them instead, eyes downcast. Then he kneels on the floor.

"My King," he says, and Arthur startles. "I have asked this before, but I must do it again. I wish to inquire what you intend to do about our children."

At first, Arthur is baffled. Are there little nieces and nephews of his swimming around that he didn't know about? Then he realizes, Orm is speaking in general terms. He looks at Atlanna, but she is inscrutable, just frowning a little.

"The children?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. And the suffering of the creatures of the seas. You are their master now – you command them, with the power of the Trident. How do you intend to save them from the pollution of the surface world? How will you keep our children from suffocating? How will you keep our flowers from withering and dying?"

Arthur sits down, hard, the support of both his legs and the water vanished under the force and weight of his brother's words. He hadn’t put any thought into it. Not truly. He knew that Orm had spoken true on their first meeting, and the issue was one that even humans talked about. But that it was his responsibility now?

"I don't know," he said, truthfully.

He expected Orm to react with fury, with disappointment, with cutting words and perhaps a fight. He did not expect him to bow his head and look lost.

"They are dying," he whispers, clenching and unclenching his empty, unprotected hands. "It is not so bad, here in the city. But I have been to the outer dwellings and … They're dying. I didn't know what to do when they showed me."

"I only know that war against the surface world is not the right way."

Orm hangs his head further, now hunched over his middle as if he were in pain.

"I didn't know what else to do."

Moved, Arthur touches his brother's shoulder, steadying them both. It's an empty gesture, in place of so many words he still cannot say. He hopes Orm is listening.

"I promise to try. I will find a way."

"You will, Arthur," Atlanna interjects, putting her own hand on Arthur's shoulder. They almost make a sad little circle, he thinks impulsively. "I believe in you. You were always meant to unite not just Atlantis, but to bridge the gap between us and the surface world. Through you it is possible."

He hopes, desperately, that she is right. He doesn't have a single clue how to do that though, and he wonders if he should ask the others. The JLA. Does this count as a worldwide emergency? Perhaps. The extinction of a millennia old civilization surely warrants some attention. Maybe Diana knows something about ancient Atlantis that can help them, or Bruce can use his connections to get Arthur to speak with the people he needs to. Maybe Clark – as Superman – can stand with him and appeal to humanity.

It's a start. The spark of an idea. He'll ask them.

Dinner arrives then, and the three of them huddle around Orm's table that is only meant for one person – certainly not for a royal feast. They end up piling platters and bowls on the floor until they join them there, relaxing over delicious Atlantean food. Like a proper family.

Arthur only wishes they could share this with Tom, too. And Mera. And Vulko.

Another time, he thinks to himself, and laughs when Orm insults his squid eating technique with colorful words. Like a proper family, indeed.

~

After so long spent either in Atlantis, somewhere else in the ocean, or at the lighthouse where he grew up it is a little disorienting to rejoin human civilization. It's one thing to go to a bar frequented by fishermen and other seamen. It's a completely different experience when walking the streets of Metropolis.

He didn't know how to contact anyone besides Clark, who has at least his work e-mail publicly available. So, he wrote him, asking to meet, and now he's here, squinting through the window of a Starbucks in midtown Metropolis, trying to see if Clark's already in there or not.

The question is clarified when a hand that is stronger than it should be descends on his shoulder.

"It's great seeing you again, Arthur," Kent says, smiling brightly and guilelessly, and pushes up his fake glasses. They really, really should not work as a disguise.

"Likewise, I guess," Arthur replies. "Can we go inside? This isn't really a roadside kind of conversation."

They both order coffee, as simple as Starbucks makes it, without all the frilly bits of nonsense that everyone else seems to insist on and sit down in a corner. It's a little dirty and cramped, but the din of conversation should do well not to get them overheard. At least not by anyone who doesn't have super hearing.

"How have you been? After the whole Steppenwolf business, I mean."

"Oh, you know. Saved a couple of mariners. Found my mom. Became King of Atlantis."

Clark raises an eyebrow.

"That's- … Congratulations?"

"Yeah. About that. You saw the news about those tsunamis that washed up some warships and heaps of garbage?"

And Arthur explains everything. Well, not everything – there is a lot, and he's not sure he's processed everything himself. But he tells Clark about how the people of Atlantis are suffering under the pollution of the oceans, and that it is his responsibility as King, now, to do something about it.

"I figured I should talk to some political leaders and hash out a deal. I'd have to reveal the fact that Atlantis exists, of course, and I'm sure we'll have to … I don't know. Trade our knowledge and technology in exchange for less trash on our doorstep?" Arthur rubs his beard. "I'm really out of my depth here and I'm going to need a lot of help."

"Wow. Yeah, I can see that."

"Do you think the JLA can help me? If people heard from you, that you and Diana stand with me? And Bruce knows people. It might make a difference."

Kent nods immediately.

"Of course, any way I can help you. We're a team. I'll talk to the others and see what we can do. Maybe Victor can look into things as well. I don't know how Barry will help, but he'll certainly be happy to do anything."

"Cool. Great." Arthur claps his hands, relieved beyond measure. "If- … Would you guys be interested in seeing it? Visiting Atlantis, I mean?"

"Yeah! Oh my God, that would be amazing. We can do that? How do we do that?"

Arthur laughs and claps Clark on the shoulder.

"My friend, you're an indestructible alien from space, you'll be fine. But we'll have suits. I'll see if we can reverse engineer some of the armor Atlanteans use to walk on the surface to supply air instead of water to breathe."

In order to not have to go through Clark's work e-mail the next time, he gives Arthur his personal phone number and an emergency number for both Diana and Bruce. Barry likes living off grid, but apparently Bruce knows how to find him. And Victor always seems to know when things are going on, so they don't need to contact him.

"I can't promise anything, phones aren't really a thing in Atlantis. At least not phones that connect to the surface world," he says, but memorizes the numbers anyway, seeing as the slip of paper Clark gave him would just dissolve in the water.

"I'll talk to the others in the meantime. Just call me or one of the others so we can come visit you."

They part ways with a cheerful wave. A huge weight has been lifted off Arthur's shoulders, and he nearly skips all the way back to shore like a schoolgirl. He has help now. They can save Atlantis.

He instructs his engineers to make air suits right away – they frown a little but comply readily. They tell him it would only take a few weeks at most to make them, and it spurs Arthur's happiness even further. Just a few weeks! His plan is going really well, better than he expected. He is making actual headway.

He's still grinning when he sees Mera, practicing with the Atlantean Guard. She hands off command to someone else and swims to him as soon as she spots him.

"My King," she says teasingly. "What brings you here?"

"Can't I just ogle a beautiful woman dressed in her cool armor?"

She laughs and slaps his arm, hard enough to bruise later.

Things between them have been a little weird, he thinks, and it's his fault. Mera is a breathtaking kind of person, strong, badass and beautiful. Headstrong. He liked kissing her. But he doesn’t know if he loves her like that. He knows he has confused her.

He reaches out and pulls her into an embrace, shamelessly dragging his jaw against her cheek. She gasps and freezes but lets him mark her.

Well, that probably didn't help clear up anything.

"Why- …" She stops and touches her cheek. "Arthur, do you even know what you just did?"

"Yeah, I do. Mera, you are family. No matter what's between us. I want everyone to know that."

She smiles, then, brilliantly and radiantly. She really is so very beautiful.

"Thank you. I did not expect this. It's an honor, Arthur."

"That’s good. I mean, I'm really glad I didn't overstep any boundaries here. But actually, this is all just a roundabout way of inviting you to dinner." He grins. "Family dinner. I have news to share."

Mera accepts, wary of surprises, and he sees her again that evening on the top of Orm's tower. Arthur has had his table replaced with a bigger one that should be able to seat all of them. All of his family. She looks resplendent there, wearing a blue suit that brings out the color of her eyes. Though at the moment those eyes are narrowed, the rest of her face carefully blank as she stares at Orm.

Arthur grimaces. He's forgotten that neither of them has spoken to the other since … Well, since the Ring of Fire, probably.

Orm's face is equally devoid of any emotion, but he scans Mera, head to toe. Then he looks at Arthur and twists his mouth a little. Arthur can't read what it means, and he wants to scream, just to release some of the tension that has seemingly transformed the water in this room into thick jelly.

"Let's eat, shall we?" he says, forcefully cheery, and plops down at the table, laden with delicious food. He starts to eat, suddenly realizing that he is ravenous. But the atmosphere doesn't change. Orm and Mera still stare at each other icily, this time across their plates. "Okay, guys, can't you just … talk it out or something? Seriously, what's the problem?"

"He is a traitor," Mera spits out almost immediately. "He has abandoned all reason and endangered Atlantis and its people instead of protecting them like he swore to do."

"And where were you, Mera? Was it not your place to stand with me?" He scoffs. "You are just as much a traitor as I am."

"Oh really? Then why am I the Commander of the Atlantean Guard, while you are imprisoned here? Don’t let the comforts fool you, Orm. You'll never leave here."

"Hey!" Arthur shouts, but neither of them listens to him.

"Interesting. You always seem to find your way into the good graces of the Atlantean throne somehow. What is it you've promised Arthur? A night in your bed? I doubt you could- …"

Mera screams and shoots out of her seat, barreling into Orm and knocking him into the wall. He just laughs and pushes her away, sending her spinning in a flurry of rage.

"Guys! Hey, can't we talk civilly about this?"

"No, not if he has no honor." Mera slowly, deliberately, bites her thumb.

Outraged, Orm surges forward, but Arthur catches him at the last moment, pulling him back with nearly all the strength he has.

"It won't help if you just hurt each other more," Arthur shouts and shakes his brother, though it is not as effective as it would be on the surface. Water makes the gesture strangely buoyant, and Orm only tenses up more. Then he glares at Mera. "You need to be more careful with what you say. And don't put words in my mouth. I do not intend to keep Orm imprisoned forever, so don't insinuate anything else. And you," he shakes Orm again, "don't rise to the bait. You're smarter than that."

He lets Orm go and both he and Mera look contrite. It's like chiding kids. If they were on the surface, they'd probably shuffle their feet, too. It would be adorable, if it weren't so frustrating.

"You marked her," Orm finally grits out between clenched teeth.

Arthur rubs the bridge of his nose. So frustrating.

"You're jealous? Seriously?"

"She's not family!" Orm cries, and then shuts his mouth, obviously noticing how whiny he just sounded.

"She is, though. I've decided that. And no, it doesn't mean I'm going to marry her – sorry, Mera, I don't mean to talk about you as if you weren't here. You are both my family, blood or no blood. No matter what. I thought- … I just want you guys to get along."

Both Orm and Mera look at him as if he's just grown a second head.

"You're an idiot," Mera says.

"You are stupid," Orm growls at the same time.

Then they burst into giggles.

Arthur groans, swearing silently that he can feel a headache coming on even though he's never had one in his entire lifetime. These two were going to be the death of him – he had no idea what just happened.

As if by silent agreement, Orm and Mera sit down at the table again, still vibrating a little with laughter. Arthur joins them cautiously.

"I ripped out nearly half her hair once. She swore she'd never forgive me for that," Orm offers without preamble, and stuffs some raw fish into his mouth.

"I still haven't." Mera grins a predatory smile. "I got back at him, though."

"Yes, by gluing my ass to the throne in front of the entire conclave."

All three of them burst into laughter then – Arthur mostly because that's the first time he's heard his brother curse. He's going to cherish the memory of him hearing Orm say 'ass' forever. Not much later, however, it's Mera who turns the conversation serious again.

"I barely recognized you, when you set it in your mind to wage war on the surface world, and it scared me," she says quietly, poking at her food. "You were always angry, even when we were children and I'd call you silly little Orm. Atlantis' little red-faced terror. Talking with his fists more than his mouth. But it was like I couldn't reach you anymore."

"I know. I didn't let you."

Mera's face twists a little, and when she speaks next her voice is so rough, Arthur thinks to himself that if they were on the surface, he's sure he would be seeing tears on her cheeks now.

"I want to know what he told you that day."

Arthur has no idea what she is speaking of, but apparently Orm does.

"Nothing important."

"Orm," she implores. "It changed you. It made you unrecognizable to me. After that, it was like my friend had vanished and, in his stead, I got an empty shell that only knew how to pick fights he can't win and nothing more."

Arthur barely dares to breathe then. The tension in the room has grown again, but this time he lets it build. This is what they needed to talk about.

Orm sets down his knife – stabs it into the table, rather – and sighs.

"He told me that I would shame Atlantis and the Marius name if I became king. And that he wishes he were still strong enough to hold his trident and kill me with it to prevent that from happening."

This is when Arthur realizes they are talking about Orvax. And his heart breaks a little.

Mera rises from her chair and swims over to where Orm still sits. He watches her, not cautiously. He can see that she has no intention of harming his brother. At least not that very moment. Instead, she takes his hand and looks at it.

"Do you remember when I first came to Atlantis?" she says quietly, and Arthur isn't sure he's meant to hear this. "I was five years old and terrified. I was homesick. Do you remember what you did?"

"I sang you to sleep."

"Yes, you sang me to sleep. You were kind to me, Orm. You were my first, my only, and my best friend. I didn't mind when they told me that I was to marry you when we were older, because I thought that I'd always have you there to sing to me." She pauses. "If you can show me that you are still the best friend I remember, then I can forgive you."

"I don't know if I can."

Mera nods and goes back to her own seat. She isn't finished, though.

"Losing your mother was terrible, but it drove you. It made you more, not less. But it was your father's death that broke you, I think." She laughs a little, mirthlessly. "It hasn't been that long. It feels like a lifetime, though."

"Two years now," Orm says quietly.

Finally, things start to sink in and make sense. Arthur takes this information and adds it to what he's known already. He always wondered why _now_. Why Orm would try to attack the surface world now. Why Mera came to him now, to ask him to dethrone his little brother. Why not earlier? Why not wait, even? But if Orvax only died two years ago … And if he left Orm with _that_ as his legacy. Suddenly, the terrible, mad frenzy made a lot more sense.

"Screw him, honestly," Arthur growls, ignoring the appalled looks from Mera and Orm. "Oh, shut up, you both know Orvax was a shitty excuse of a king, and an even shittier excuse of a father. Good riddance. And don't even try to defend him," he points his finger at Orm, who closes his mouth promptly, clearly ready to do just that. "Seriously, all of this is your father's fault, for being so shitty. I blame him for everything bad that's ever happened. Us losing mom? His fault. You thinking you had to prove your worth somehow by being as shitty as him because he had to go and be a shitty father on his damn deathbed? His damn fault."

Orm looks away, clearly conflicted, and Mera just scowls silently.

"Anyway, as great as it was that you two finally talked things through a little," Arthur clears his throat. "Uh, this actually isn't why I asked you both to have dinner here. I have some great news."

"Oh?" Mera perks up.

"Yeah. I spoke to one of my friends on the surface. I think we can get the Justice League to help us save Atlantis."

Now Orm perks up, too.

"How?" he asks.

"Well, first of all, I asked them to come here. I want them to see Atlantis. And then – I hope they can tell me."

"You would ask the advice of surface dwellers on how to save Atlantis?" Orm cries, outraged. "What do they know of our ways, or our suffering?"

"Nothing, that's why I'm going to show them. And I will need their help, because like it or not, we will have to negotiate with those surface dwellers. If we want them to stop polluting our oceans, there will have to be peace talks, signings, what have you."

"You mean," Mera interjects, "we will have to reveal Atlantis to the world."

"Yes."

Mera looks determined, clearly ready to support that decision. Predictably, Orm looks conflicted.

"I don't like it. But I think you are right, there is no other way but to reveal Atlantis to the surface," he says slowly. "However, that is not a decision you can make on your own. You will need the support and consent of the other kingdoms."

"Let me handle Xebel," Mera immediately offers.

"And the Fishermen should be no problem. They will welcome a peaceful first contact in the spirit of communication and exchange." Orm grimaces. "Or so I have been told."

"What about the Brine?"

Arthur's question launches Mera and Orm into a discussion of how to best proceed with the unification of Atlantis' four factually remaining kingdoms. He listens to their suggestions, glad that they are not arguing or simmering silently anymore. Because this is what they are good at, what they know how to do best. He may be king, but they know Atlantis' inner workings better than anyone else he knows, aside from Vulko. And he would trust no one else to consult him on this.

They are his family, after all.

In the end it is settled that it would be best for Arthur to invite the other kings and the Fishermen queen to Atlantis city for a conference. A unanimous decision must be reached about the revelation of Atlantis to the surface world and how to properly deal with the pollution of the oceans. So, it is after dinner that Arthur instructs his people to contact the other rulers through the proper channels and invite them to the palace.

With that done, nothing stands in the way of Atlantis' salvation anymore, except the stupidity and stubbornness of both humans and Atlanteans.

Now that he thinks about it, those aren't good odds. He will have the beacon of hope with him to convince humanity – everyone, even people who are otherwise unreasonable, listens to Superman. But he has no ace up his sleeve when it comes to Atlantis. Wielding the Trident is one thing, being the rightful king another. Yet whether they will be enough to truly unite Atlantis will remain to be seen.

~

Arthur isn't sure whether to be glad or horrified that the date on which he intended to invite the Justice League to Atlantis coincides with the date of the conference with the other Atlantean kings and queen. A secret part of him would like to sit back and watch the disaster unfold, but he knows there is too much at stake for that. Instead, he is now nervous, for the first time in a very long time.

He drives an Atlantean ship close to the shore adjacent to the Wayne Manor property, where they agreed to meet and swims the rest of the way under his own power. There, at the beach stand his friends and comrades-in-arms, ready to support him. Victor nods at him from under the shadow of his hoodie. Both Clark and Bruce are dressed in their costumes, only Diana and Barry stand there in their casual clothes. Well, Barry's more casual than Wonder Woman's.

"Hi guys," he says to break the ice and grins, waving at them. "Who's excited to see Atlantis?"

To nobody's surprise Barry jumps up and down excitedly, saying "me, me, me!" Diana smiles warmly at him and then at Arthur, nodding.

"It is an honor. I have heard many stories about Atlantis before it fell, but I imagine it will be very different now."

Bruce and Victor lead them to a small boat that will bring them out far enough to board Arthur's Atlantean ship, and they all pile in except for Arthur. He swims them to a spot directly above and then dives to retrieve the ship. Once it lays buoyant on the surface of the sea, he opens the hatch and lets his friends on board.

"Okay, so Atlantean ships are not usually filled with air. I had a friend help me make an exception, but before we arrive, we will have to remedy that or the sudden change of pressure might be too much to handle for your constitution," Arthur explains and shows them their suits. "These have been reverse engineered from Atlantean surface suits to allow you to survive the pressure and supply with you air derived from the water surrounding you. That means you won't have to worry about your air running out."

He shows each their assigned suits and then leaves them to it, starting the descent to the seafloor. After a while, he checks in on them, seeing happily that everything seems to be in order. Victor especially seems fascinated with the technology, and Bruce too is eyeing some things with thinly veiled interest. Diana looks right at home in the Atlantean suit, looking proud and powerful as always, and Barry is giddy. If anything, it is Clark who looks the least comfortable.

"I am going to flood the ship now," he tells them and presses a button. After the wave has passed and water has found its way into every nook and cranny, he checks again whether their suits are airtight. "Everyone able to breathe alright? Yeah? Good. Let's go."

He pushes the speed limit of his ship, not just eager to show Atlantis to his friends, but also aware there is a time constraint. It would not do to let the other Atlantean rulers wait on him. So, he drives quickly and a little recklessly, but ultimately, they arrive at the bridge safely and with some time to spare.

"Oh wow, that looks amazing," Clark says, leaning forward.

"Are these original Atlantean structures?" asks Diana, pointing at the colossal statues flanking the gate.

"Yeah, I think so. Most of this bridge is a remnant from before the fall. You'll see that the new city was built on the ruins of the old, but most Atlanteans never go to the old town. They rather avoid the seabed."

Border control lets them pass, of course, some guards on their shark mounts saluting their king as he drives through the gate. The sudden burst of light and activity that follows garners a reaction very similar to what Arthur first experienced when he came here with Mera. Even Bruce seems awed as they drive through the city and towards the palace.

"Here we are," Arthur says and parks the ship in a bay reserved especially for him about midway up the palace's tall, vertical structure. "Welcome to Atlantis!"

They all alight a bit nervously, testing their suits and craning their necks to look around at the blatantly modern buildings pulsing with life and energy. Arthur reminds them that most Atlantean buildings, including the palace, are not built with floor-walkers in mind.

"Unless you find an Atlantean willing to carry you, you'll most likely be confined to this floor for now."

He leads them to a room where his mother, Mera and Vulko are waiting already. Arthur introduces his friends, naming their hero identities first and foremost to express their status as champions of the surface, rather than individuals.

"And these are my mother, Queen Atlanna; the Commander of the Atlantean Guard, my friend and family, Princess Y'Mera Xebella Challa; and my trusted Vizier, Nuidis Vulko." Then he pauses. "Mom, where is Orm?"

His mother's pleasant, polite smile drops, and she frowns.

"The watch guard would not allow him here without your express permission," she says frostily.

Arthur curses and excuses himself.

"I'm sorry, can you guys just, uh, talk to each other for a moment? I have to settle this."

As he swims away, he hears, with great relief, how Mera approaches Diana with questions about the Amazons and their prowess in battle. He hopes they will grow to like each other. All of them. They are his two sides, meeting finally, and it makes him excited to think that they will get along.

But he wants his brother to be there too.

He knows it might be too soon. Orm is still rather opinionated when it comes to the surface and surface dwellers, to put it mildly, but Arthur thinks it's just that he's never seen the surface world or met anyone who actually lives there, aside from Arthur. Exposure is a good way to get over a phobia. Isn't it? That might only apply to spiders though, now that he thinks about it.

He tries not to let his nerves show when he arrives at the tower and sternly commands the guards to release Orm into his custody. They balk and try to talk him out of it, but Arthur won't have it.

"Just step aside, I'll get him myself."

As soon as he enters Orm's room he knows something is wrong. He can't see his brother anywhere, but that's not really anything new. He's arranged his room to allow for obscured vision from the door to give him as much privacy as possible in a room without walls. But it's the utter stillness of the water that makes Arthur's skin crawl.

"Orm?" he calls out. "Little brother? There are some people I wanted you to meet. You'll have to come with me though."

He swims to the center of the room, peering at the couch and behind the table as he passes them. And then he stops short, spotting a familiar glint of brightness that reflects the dim light like polished metal.

"Hey," he mutters and sinks down next to his brother, who has wedged himself between the bed and the wall. Arthur can't fit there, he doesn't think, so he sits on the bed itself.

His only reply is a sound between a grunt and a sob.

Arthur sighs and stretches out on the bed on his back. If he can't join Orm in his little hiding place, then he will do the next best thing. He arranges himself so his head hangs over the edge of the bed, right next to Orm. He is upside down, but direction is all but meaningless in Atlantis, or so he has come to learn.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asks, despite knowing he doesn't really have the time to deal with whatever this is. Even if he wants to, needs to, should definitely take the time, or he knows it will set back whatever progress he's made with Orm by about a billion.

"Mother was supposed to visit," Orm finally says, voice thick with emotion.

"She's here," Arthur replies, surprised. "That's why I came to check on you. You were supposed to go with her, but the guards wouldn't let her take you without my direct permission."

"Oh." Orm finally lifts his head and rubs his nose abashedly. "I thought- …"

"Silly little Orm," Arthur laughs and shrieks when Orm retaliates for the usage of his childhood nickname by blowing air bubbles against Arthur's ticklish neck. He forgives it, just this once, because it makes his brother laugh.

He waits patiently for Orm to make himself presentable – it doesn't take long, even disheveled his little brother is more put together than most people Arthur knows – and then leads him out the door. The guards say nothing, cowed beneath their king's glare.

They swim to the room where Arthur left his friends and family, and as they approach, he is gladdened to not only hear conversation but even laughter.

"My friends," he says, "may I introduce to you my sebastokratōr, my brother, my family, my heir: Orm Atlan of Atlantis."

The members of the Justice League all turn to politely greet him, but it is the reactions of his Atlantean side of the family that pleases Arthur the most. Orm's own, specifically. He doesn't even have an eye for the surface dwellers, doesn't get a chance to let his resentment show.

"You can't name me sebastokratōr yet, I'm still your prisoner," he cries.

"Atlan?" adds Mera, looking confused. "When did that happen?"

Arthur raises a hand and they fall quiet right away.

"Frist things first. I have made my decision, and I'll speak to you all later about that. But let me introduce my friends from the surface. Superman, the protector of planet Earth. Wonder Woman, championess of the Amazons. Batman, the dark knight. Cyborg, the bridge between man and machine. And the Flash, the fastest man alive."

He sees Orm gather himself, shrouding his thoughts and feelings in the title Arthur has bestowed upon him. His greeting of the surface dwellers is cool, but perfectly polite, and when Arthur leads all of them into the conference room where the convalescence of three Atleantean kings and one queen will be held, he even hears Orm make some small talk with Diana.

If the King Nereus, King Karkinos or Queen Scales notice the struggle Arthur has to keep his happiness from showing too much, they don't say anything. But he thinks this is going to go very well.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading :D


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